


I dreamt that I was an arrow

by selflessbellamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on Love Rosie, Best Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Time, Flashbacks, Fluff, Sequel to 'Love Clarke', Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3542525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selflessbellamy/pseuds/selflessbellamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most best friends don’t sleep together…</p>
            </blockquote>





	I dreamt that I was an arrow

**Author's Note:**

> I have really wanted to write more in this universe for such a long time, and then I finally got an idea :)

Most best friends don’t sleep together…

 

Well, perhaps they do in logical sense of the term, because he still remembered nights inside a fort they’d spent what felt like hours building in the middle of her room: blankets and pillows thrown everywhere so that their small, seven-year-old bodies were nearly covered in an avalanche of fluffiness. Sharing dreams… Even Bellamy’s weirdest ones: _“I dreamt that I was a telescope. Actually not a full telescope, just the glass part thingy at the end, and I could see the stars on the sky. Millions and billions of them, Clarke - isn’t that cool?” With her fingers slowly slipping out from in between his where they had been intertwined, he knew that she was drifting off to sleep._

When they got older, and could suddenly stay awake longer, they would watch movies on the IPad that a badly influenced Clarke would manage to sneak from her mother’s purse. But it wasn’t until the age of ten that they had pulled their first all-nighter together, giggling at Clarke’s horrendous idea of them gluing each other’s eyelids open. Then, the next morning, Abby Griffin had sighed with a smile playing on her lips at the sight of the two children struggling not to fall asleep, head down in their bowls of cereal.

 

~*~

_Dear Aurora_

_I deeply apologize if you were met by an exhausted (and grumpy?) Bellamy this afternoon - our kids, seriously. As a matter of fact I sent Clarke straight to bed the minute after he had left our house, barely able to keep his eyes open. I cannot imagine the many more reliefs that are going to come along with you living just across the street._

_See you on Monday (we are all very excited for our first barbeque in ages! Clarke won’t stop talking about it) //: Abby Griffin_

_-_

 

_To Bellamy_

_I can’t believe that Artemis almost ate all of the burgers. I tried so hard not to laugh._

_From Clarke_

_To Clarke_

_Did you see my dad’s face? He looked so red I thought he might explode._

_From Bellamy_

~*~

In Sophmore year of High School, Artemis (that smelly dog) had surprisingly become a bigger part of their friendship, because Bellamy’s little sister was growing up as well, slowly starting to defy him more and more, which meant that he suddenly had a lot of spare time to spend with his pet - oh, and his best friend. Walking the young, excited dog to the park had easily rooted a lot of conversations about everything and nothing: _“Bellamy, tell me a secret.” Moaning in relief, Clarke threw herself on the grass, watching him as he copied the action, turning around on his side - a boyish smile playing at the corners of his mouth - to face her._

_“And what on Earth makes you think that you’re entitled to know a secret of mine?” He asked with that characteristic mix of absence and teasing to his voice - something, which she at times, hated him for, merely because she found it annoying, and he was very well aware of that._

_“I should start with the tiny fact that I’m your best friend, which makes me want to take that burden off of your shoulders. Secondly, I’m just a nosy brat.”_

This seemingly innocent conversation had led to him spilling one of many embarrassing facts about himself, and she hadn’t believed it at first, yet then her eyes had widened, breeding a kind of awkward silence which they weren’t used to. However, it had only lasted probably a minute before she had burst into laughter, though not a mocking one like the one she used whenever (he let her win) she won in Scrabble or Mario Kart - no, this had been contagious, making him forget his embarrassment for a while. Upon a few seconds of renewed silence as their amusement died down, Bellamy’s hand had found hers naturally, their eyes instinctively locking.

 _Damn, she’s amazing,_ he remembered having thought, and recalling the way his heart had fluttered at the view of her smiling relaxed next to him. Everything was just right with them… Or that is, until he’d screwed it up:

 

**_Clarke Griffin accepted your chat invitation:_ **

****

9:33 **Clarke says:** Your face is annoying me. Will you please stop smirking? Excel is _so_ incredibly exciting, and you’re ruining it.

****

9:33 **Bellamy says:** I’ve got news.

 

9:34 **Clarke says:** Me too. I need to concentrate so I can pass my exams and get a life.

 

9:35 **Bellamy says:** Virgin boy is no longer.

 

9:38 **Bellamy says:** Hello? Still there?

9:38 **Clarke says:** So who’s the unlucky girl?

 

9:39 **Bellamy says:** Take a guess.

 

9:40 **Clarke says:** How about no?

 

9:40 **Bellamy says:** All right…

 

(Clarke is typing…)

 

9:40 **Bellamy says:** ROMA

 

(Clarke has logged off)

~*~

 

_“For a minute there I thought you might be in love with me or something.” Casting a rather nervous glance over his shoulder at her coming from the kitchen, he placed the bowl of popcorn on the table, not being able to take his eyes off of her all of a sudden: her golden hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head, revealing the shape of her face and the intense color of her eyes._

_“Bellamy, you will forever be the boy, who wiped boogers on my favorite party dress, okay? Don’t flatter yourself.” She put down two bottles of homemade lemonade, and their tradition could be carried out as usual. Or?_

_“What’s the deal with you?”_

_“Nothing.” But of fucking course she didn’t believe any of that, sweeping her arms around his waist in order to gain his attention. She was way too close, making him hold his breath, feeling guilty as her gaze cut right through him, uncovering the truth before he could do something: “She’s coming here, isn’t she? You’re going on a date, and you forgot this?” To his horror, she was almost visibly hurt, stepping away from him as if he had burned her, as his face fell._

_“Clarke--“_

_“No, Bellamy. It’s totally fine! Do what you want, I don’t care.” She started to walk, grabbing her purse, which had been thrown on the couch. As she headed towards the front door, he followed her, reaching for her arm and forcing her to turn around._

_Normally, Clarke did everything she could to avoid drama, but right now nobody could blame her for making a scene “10 years have we done this. And you have never forgotten. If that’s not enough reason for me to leave, then that’s too fucking bad, Bellamy. Because you’re not gonna get anything else.”_

~*~

 

Forgiveness was an enormous part of their friendship as well, since there were frequently things that happened, which hurt one or the other. And it puzzled Bellamy that even after so many years they didn’t seem to know each other enough to avoid such stuff. But they always forgave, quickly leaning how important that was. It had taken him a rather long time to earn it back then, however it was understandable, given that he had been a complete idiot.

 

**_You have received an “I’m sorry”- card from Bellamy Blake. Want to open it and see what it says?_ **

****

Dear Clarke Griffin

 

I am an asshole. Forgive me. Please…

 

From Bellamy Blake

 

Clarke broke into a whole-hearted laughter, throwing her head back like a kid and felt a few tears starting to fill her eyes: Damn, he was without a doubt an asshole, but he was an asshole that she could never imagine not having in her life - an asshole that could always make her laugh to the point where she believed it might kill her.

 

_Damn him._

\---

 

** March 17th \- Three weeks after Valentine’s Day  **

**__ **

No, most best friends don’t sleep together; but it was scientifically proven that the majority at least think about it once or twice during their life when teenage hormones kick in like minions trying to mess up your brain, and suddenly, you’re imaging things that make you want to partly die, partly slap yourself until you’re finally old enough to understand that those things will never happen.

But then once you actually get to that age, and you’re happy (or at least you let yourself believe that), you fucking kiss her and everything changes. But only in your mind, because she refuses to talk about it (something that drives you crazy, yet you don’t say)…

She had said that she was in love with him. Kissed him. And now she wanted to pretend that nothing had ever happened. That, ladies and gentlemen confused him to the point where he could no longer throw a tantrum when he died in Call Of Duty.

 

**YOU GOT KILLED. MISSION FAILED.**

 

“Bellamy, what the hell? That’s the third time that you have gotten killed by a perfect headshot and you’re sitting there like a dead fish,” when Miller paused the game instead of starting a new one straight away, Bellamy knew that he had been too obvious, cursing himself as he with the corner of an eye spied Miller placing the controller on the pillow next to him - this could not be good, “What’s up with you? And don’t tell me ‘nothing’ because we both know that’s bullshit.”

Since a day in middle school where Miller had defended Bellamy’s friendship with Clarke (“She’s a girl, and so what? Some girls are cool!”) he had been Bellamy’s friend too, which was a weird truth - almost all of the friends he had, Clarke had too, which (unfortunately at times) made it hard for them to ignore each other.

Bellamy groaned loudly, smashing his face against a pillow while Miller simply rolled his eyes at him: “You’re such a baby, Blake. And you only act like that when your friendship with Clarke is on the rocks. What is it this time?” At the word _friendship,_ Bellamy swallowed hard, trying to get up and escape to the kitchen, but Miller quickly tackled him, “Dude, get off me!” 

“ _Dude -_ SPILL!”

Reluctantly, Bellamy tried to form words he thought would both fit and conceal the raw, actual truth, but he failed. Upon pushing Miller with unexpected force, he broke free, finally able to breathe properly: “We kissed. And now we haven’t talked in almost a month. I just feel like such a fuck-up.”

“You’re not a fuck-up, Blake. You’re a coward - a blind one of the kind. Everyone knows you’re in love with her, except for yourself.” If Bellamy had expected his friend to be surprised at the confession, he would’ve been extremely disappointed given the fact that there wasn’t the slightest bit of shock in his tone of voice. 

Normally, he would’ve punched anyone who dared to speak to him that way, but this was Miller, which was different. On top of that, he knew that he was terribly right: “I know that I’m in love with her, and for a minute it felt like a dream because it wasn’t unrequited: she told me that she loved me.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?”

 

Following that was a long, torturous pause when Bellamy realized that it honestly wasn’t about anything except the guts to reach out. Still, he had to save his dignity (or more accurately: what was left of it): “For her to say that she meant it.”

“I’m not going to play a role in a cheesy chick flick here, so how about you sort out that shit for yourself while a make myself a sandwich?” Knowing Miller, a statement like that couldn’t surprise him - actually, it was the straight opposite.

To get his mind off of Clarke, Bellamy randomly found himself babbling about a dream that he had had the previous night, not sure if Miller was even listening. Turns out, in the end that he was, but…”I don’t understand. I’ve never had dreams like that. How can you be a _thing?_ ”

 

\- Princess Warrior - 

 

 

**I dreamt that I was an arrow - like the little**

**metal bit right at the tip of an arrow, whizzing through**

**the air.**

What did it feel like?

 

**Weird.**

Don’t worry. You always have dreams

like that :)

 

**I really miss you, Clarke.**

 

 

I miss you too.

 

Wanna come over?

 

~*~

Bellamy had no idea why, but that question seemed very intimate suddenly - as if she hadn’t asked it a million times over the span of twelve years. And his thumbs shook a little as they typed a ‘sure’ as response. 

“Miller! I need to pick Octavia up from school! … Might take a while. Just chill here if you would like.” Mostly, the guy simply stayed anyway, as if he had no home to return to, however during these past weeks without Clarke, it hadn’t been that much of a problem (his mother was more annoyed than Bellamy himself - perhaps she indeed missed Clarke too…) 

* * *

 

 

After twelve years of friendship, Bellamy had come to learn a lot of things not merely about Clarke but also her family, that including that the spare key to their house was hidden under the birdbath. As you could probably imagine, he had lost count of how many times he had been met by a horrified Clarke ready to hit him with a lamp or stab him with a butter knife. 

But this was as different as it could get, ‘cause just when he entered, Bellamy was welcomed by a pair of lips latching themselves onto his, catching him off guard until he realized that it could be no other than her attacking him. “Let me--“ Struggling at both returning the kiss and simply closing the door, Bellamy managed to breathe out those words against her lips, bewildered. Smoothly, he kicked the door shut using his foot and lifted Clarke from the ground, allowing her legs to wrap around his waist as if they were molded to fit there perfectly: their lips working of same principle, hers sweeter than he remembered them but not as gentle.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy. I really am. But you left, and I thought-“

“What? That I regretted it?” Barely even thinking, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of her neck, causing her to close her eyes, lips parting just a little before she croaked: “Well, yes and no. None of us were thinking clearly, so when you left--“ she had to speak between the kisses he peppered on her skin, voluntarily trying to shut off his brain: _he didn’t want to think of her the same anymore. Refused to see her as the crayon-loving girl with the tiny fingers that still fitted in between his,_ “I thought that I would soon regret everything. But I didn’t realize that it wasn’t going to happen before you reached out to me.” 

One of his hands was buried in the soft, golden waves of her that he had braided countless times before, mouth continuously working on the surprisingly very erogenous skin of her neck and collarbone - it felt wonderfully different; it was a new sensation. She had just started to pull at his hair when he heard noises from the living room that made him abruptly stiffen: “Is your mom home?” Panicking but also attempting to hold back groans at the feeling of her hands slipping gently underneath his shirt, he quickly kissed her to muffle her gasp, deciding that it possibly was best to stop touching her for now. 

“She’s re-watching the entire eleven seasons of Grey’s Anatomy. I promise, she won’t hear a thing while sobbing over MerDer and lost patients.” Smiling mischievously at the sight of his messy hair, she started working on the buttons of his button-down, taking her time. 

“Clarke--“ 

Her hand swept across his neck, and she arched an eyebrow, which was one of the most used twists to her facial expression, starting from when they would write notes while looking at Smelly Breath Ms. Nigel. Alright, maybe he couldn’t ever stop seeing a little bit of that girl in her, yet it was somehow incredibly endearing: “Bellamy--“ Pulling that classic _shut-up_ manoeuvre, she tangled her fingertips a little more in his hair, sighing against his mouth, but before she could go any further, he pulled away, desperate.

“At least, let me carry you upstairs.”

“I guess I can handle that.”

Bellamy breathed out in relief, calm now that they didn’t have to worry about maybe Abby walking to the bathroom and seeing… Yeah. Most likely that would be worse than the time where he had brought her home from Raven’s 19th birthday and she was completely hammered, roaring Avril Lavigne’s **“Here’s to never growing up.”** to the entire neighborhood at 3 a.m. (they hadn’t been allowed to see each other for two weeks)

 

* * *

 

 

The atmosphere of her room used to be familiar: clear and distinctive with a hint of the _White sand beaches_ Bath and Body works candle, but then, it was immediately turned around, thickened to the point where he could no longer recognize any element except her; stunningly beautiful as they turned around to stare at each other for a moment, this time it being Bellamy deciding to make a move by clashing their lips together in a way that was almost too forceful. 

“I hate thinking.” He murmured, his mind once again being a pain in the ass, yet he tried to focus on how Clarke teased his bottom lip with her teeth, hopelessly getting lost in the feeling, succeeding seconds later.

“Then don’t for God’s sake.” And with that, she ripped the last three buttons of his shirt open, pausing for a few moments to look at the exposed strip of skin. How she hesitated to touch him was like a way of telling him that she wasn’t fully capable of not thinking either. In the end, she did follow through, pulling it off him to let her fingers trail up his chest, suddenly being a lot more careful than before. Bellamy bent down to kiss her, igniting the fire between them again. _Just take control._

Dismissing his nervousness, he rid her off her cardigan and shirt, nipping at the skin of her neck, and she let his hands wander over her body. Maybe he knew a whole lot of things about Clarke, but he had never seen her naked or without a shirt before. The unknown used to scare him, however when he kissed her ivory skin, he didn’t feel that.

“What do you know? You’re not a boy anymore, Bellamy.” Clarke gasped in ear once she felt his fingers unhook her bra. 

“I still occasionally watch _Power Rangers._ ” Oh how he loved the sound of her laugh, and he knew when it was real, because it always eased whatever tension there might’ve been between them. Touching her bare back, he nuzzled her neck close to her mouth so that he could hear the small gasps that she responded with.

* * *

 

Okay, maybe Bellamy had had sex before, yet this simply couldn’t be compared, not in any way. The whole thing was unreal, and many times he caught himself trying to clarify that it was indeed her, since his name was never supposed to be a moan on her lips. _However, there it was. And again…_

Luckily, it got more natural until he felt free to just drown, surprised at how amazing it was to let go of himself, the thoughts at most, because he could tell that she was no longer struggling against anything either.

All that aside, he had never been loved so much by anyone, Clarke making it clearer every time she touched him or whispered sweet nonsense into his ear. They laughed again as he rested his forehead against hers, and Bellamy smiled into their last kiss before he pulled out, rolling off of her and onto his side.

He pulled the covers down a little, allowing himself to pull her closer now that he was staring into her eyes, more relaxed than he thought he’d ever be. “What do you wanna do now?” Wrapping a finger idly around a piece of her golden hair, he grinned, expecting to get slapped for the teasing, but instead she smiled back: “How about we lay here for five minutes, and then stay naked to watch a cheesy movie or whatever.” She echoed him, only changing the words _slightly._

“Clarke, I’d love it.”

 


End file.
